


Forget Me Not

by chopsouhy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends to Lovers, Fluff, High School AU, I'm really bad at tags, M/M, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Sort Of, childhood AU, there is a car accident, there's flashbacks to their childhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chopsouhy/pseuds/chopsouhy
Summary: As if high school isn't complicated enough, Louis was in a car accident, and has subsequently damaged the long-term memory portion of his brain. He has no idea who he is, and his friends are strangers to him. There are some things that Harry hopes he never remembers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! please let me know if you'd like to see this continued :) also, it's barely edited, so... apologies in advance for any errors you come across.

  Today is Louis’s first day of school, but it’s also so much more than that. He’s sixteen, a bit shorter than the average boy his age, with blue eyes and feathery brunette hair. And. That’s about all he knows. As far as his interests, his hobbies, his personality… it’s all an unfortunate cloudy blur. Louis can recognize his physical features in the mirror, but that’s it. He knows nothing else about himself, and this fact has proven to be torturous. 

  One month ago, he woke up underneath fluorescent lights to the sounds of people gasping and the constant beep of a heartbeat monitor. It took a few minutes to adjust to the room of nurses, a few doctors, and a very concerned looking woman. 

  He knew none of them. 

  In fact, he had no idea of why he was there, or who he _was._ It was a terrifying realization that dawned itself quickly and dauntingly in his brain. 

  Louis was told that he was a high school student who had been involved in a horrid car accident in the middle of the night. No one was killed, but apparently the person who hit him had some broken bones. He, however, had suffered from a brain injury enough to severely damage his long term memory. 

  The doctors had put him in a medically induced coma in order for his body to survive the damage. And now, there he was, almost two weeks later, waking up and blinking through the light of a room that was just too bright. 

  And so the next few days were strange, and uncomfortable, and full of guilt. Guilt that he didn’t recognize his parents, who wept almost every time they looked at him. Guilt that he needed help doing simple things, like remembering how to tie his shoes and brush his teeth. It was like waking up from a long nap and stretching out sore limbs, except the nap was a near-death incident and the limbs were his ability to function as a nearly-grown adult. 

  It was overwhelming and stressful, to say in the least. 

  But enough time has passed that it’s time for Louis to return to school, apparently. He hasn’t forgotten too much of his learned knowledge, he doesn’t think. He remembers how to multiply, and divide, and even factor. He knows the plots of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most popular novels. He could tell you about World War II, but not what he got for his thirteenth birthday, or if he’s ever been to a concert.

  He’s currently standing in front of a full-body mirror in his room, adjusting the fringe on top of his head and looking at his outfit. He’d found the clothes in his closet, so they must be his style - but he can’t say he loves it. Skinny black jeans and an oversized band t-shirt. It’s a little bit “I care so much about looking careless,” but it’s all he’s got and he’s going to have to work with it. There’s a grey hoodie hanging on the back of his desk chair, and he tugs it over his torso before throwing his backpack over his shoulder (full of brand new notebooks and pencils) and stepping out into the hall.

  His mother is waiting for him at the front door, looking nervous and slightly uncomfortable. Their interactions are still strange. 

  “Have a great day at school, sweetheart,” she says quietly, running a soft hand through his hair. He leans into the touch, and sighs. Her voice is not as familiar to his ears as it is to his heart. His mind is saying “you don’t know this woman,” but his body is instantly comforted by her presence. And that’s something, isn’t it?

  “Thank you,” he replies, giving her a quick (albeit awkward) hug before stepping outside and making his way towards the bus. 

 ~

  School is so much. It’s too much. Louis is violently shoving textbooks into his locker, and a few people probably stop to look at him when he growls and slams it shut. He’s just so _frustrated_ with the curious stares, the hushed whispers, the teachers talking to him like he’s four years old. The students occasionally approaching him after class and saying, “ _You really don’t remember me?”_ He can’t blame anyone in particular. 

  He doesn’t know how to act about this either. The whole situation is just pitiful. He’s got English next, and makes his way towards the class with his hood up over his head. He’ll probably be reprimanded for it, but he can’t be damned enough to care. Anything to make himself less visible, to get them to stop staring. 

  “Hey, Tommo’s back!” Someone shouts from behind him, cheerily. 

  “No he isn’t,” Louis grumbles under his breath, so quietly that he barely hears it himself, and continues to walk. If only he knew who the _fuck_ “Tommo” was. He feels like a new soul in someone else’s dead body. It’s disgusting. It’s aggravating. This is harder than he’d ever imagined it would be. 

  By the time the bell rings, he’s stepping into the classroom number printed on his schedule. Every single head in the room turns to look at him, silent and wide eyed. It’s like they’re all waiting for him to say something, to say “Gotcha!” and melt into his normal-self. _Whoever that is._ It’s sixth period, though, and he’s used to it at this point. He’s been received the same way in every other classroom, so far. 

  There’s an empty seat in the middle of the room. Louis can only assume it’s where he used to sit, so he hastily makes his way towards and plops down into the chair. 

  The teacher is yet to enter the room, and the class slowly begins to talk amongst themselves again. He can tell that it’s half-assed, though, and they’re all listening for him. 

  “Hey Lou,” someone casually says from his left. Louis, in the middle of pulling out a notebook and a pen, looks up at a blonde in the desk beside him. He’s tapping a pencil against an empty piece of paper. “You don’t know me, but I know you.” 

  “Where have I heard that before,” Louis huffs, and the guy laughs. 

  “I’m Niall.” 

  “Nice to meet you, then.”

  “We’ve been friends since we were eight,” Niall blinks. Louis grimaces with embarrassment, but it fades from him quickly. He’s tired of feeling bad about himself for something he can’t control.

  “You were friends with _Louis._ I’m just… Louis,” he sighs. 

  “Oh, of course. My mistake.” 

  “Oi, shut up, will you?” Louis snaps back, but it’s in an oddly comfortable jest. He’s smiling slightly, and Niall laughs, again, except now, he’s slowly shaking his head.

 “You’re still the fuckin’ same. Welcome back.”

  There’s something warm about it. It’s the first conversation he’s had today that didn’t leave him feeling cold and sick. 

~

  Louis ends up asking for Niall’s phone number, but is reminded with a chuckle that he already has it. 

  “Huh, would you look at that,” Louis mutters from where he’s leant against a wall near Niall’s locker. Niall rolls his eyes and grabs a brown bag from inside, and slams the door shut. 

  Meanwhile, there’s a contact in Louis’s phone with the name “Nialler the fuckin’ GOAT.”

  “I entered the name,” he blonde boasts, chin tilting into the air just slightly as they begin to move towards the cafeteria. 

  “I’m not surprised,” Louis scoffs. “So, uh, were you my best friend? I know it’s a weird question, but like, I dunno. I guess I should try to figure out my social situation.” 

  Niall’s face twists into something Louis doesn’t recognize. It’s discomfort, at the very least. He immediately regrets asking the question. 

  “Not quite,” he stops himself. There’s something he looks like he was going to say, but decided against it with a purse of his lips. “I mean, I’m definitely up there. We’re, uh, super close. Youknew a lot of embarrassing shit about me that you constantly dangled over my head. It’s real shit that you lost your memory and all, but I can’t say I’m not relieved you don’t remember what I did at Jessica’s Halloween party last year.” 

  Louis throws his head back and laughs. It’s refreshing for someone not to walk on eggshells around him. He’s starting to be glad his former self appreciated Niall, too. 

  “Glad my trauma can make your life easier,” he hums. “I’ve got gym next, point me in the right direction?” 

  Niall waves a dramatic hand to his right. 

  “Can’t miss it. Once it starts to smell like stale ass in the hallway, you’re at the boy’s locker room.”

~

  Louis continues to avoid stares as he changes into the clothes that were already in his locker. The gym coach had been waiting for him outside the door, with a piece of paper for him with a locker number and passcode to open it. He quickly throws on the shorts and t-shirt, disgusted with the smell. They’ve definitely been sitting in here for way too long.

  There’s a can of spray deodorant in his locker though, and he douses himself in it. Better to smell like “summer breeze” than sweat. Or, at least, an unflattering combination of the two. 

  He makes a mental note to take the clothes home tonight for a thorough washing.

The class is outside today, and there’s an intense fog hovering over the dewey grass. Everything looks damp and heavy, and grey. The coach pulls him aside once again as everyone begins running a warm-up lap around the track.

“Your doctor’s note said you’re cleared for physical activity, but if at any point you feel like things are too much or you just need a break, by all means, Tomlinson,” he claps a hand on the boy’s back, and Louis jolts forward with a yelp.

“Alright. Thank you,” he nods, before running to catch up with everyone else. The last thing he needs is more attention put on himself, so he’d rather just do what everyone is doing as opposed to sitting on the sidelines like a sore thumb. 

  Ten minutes later, Louis is sure he hates gym. He knows nothing about his former self before the accident but he’s pretty damn sure he hated gym back then, too. There was no way anyone in their right mind would enjoy playing capture the flag with a bunch of adrenaline affected, hormone induced teenagers with enough anger inside them to kill someone. 

  He’s decided to do as little as possible by standing off to the side and “guarding” the border. Though, when people from the opposite team cross onto his side, he tends to just let them pass. No one has commented on it, yet. 

  People seem afraid to speak to him, and for now, that’s perfectly fine. 

  And then the gym teacher is shouting.

  “ _Styles,_ you’re late! Get out here!” Everyone in the class stops to whip their heads towards the building. A curly haired boy, tall and slightly lanky, is jogging towards the field, in a gym uniform and old looking sneakers. 

  “Sorry,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. Only tired. 

  Louis doesn’t understand why the entire class has stilled, why the game has practically come to a complete stop. 

  “Styles” makes it to where everyone else is playing the assigned game, and finally looks up. He’s about thirty feet away. 

  Louis makes eye contact with him, and the grey-green irises are choking him almost instantly. It’s the most intense stare he’s ever experienced and it’s so confusing and pained looking that he turns away. 

  “Come on everyone, keep it moving,” the coach claps his hands together, and someone nudges Louis’s side. 

  “Do you not remember him?” They ask with a raised brow. A bit insensitive, Louis thinks.

  “No,” he replies, unsure of what else to say. 

  “Yeesh,” the boy responds, turning to someone else nearby and speaking to that person,instead. “That’s when you know it’s bad.” The other student only hums in response.

_What the fuck?_

  Louis is tired of feeling out of the loop. Like everyone knows something he doesn’t, because that _something_ is his entire life. So he clenches his fists, and begins walking. 

  The game has continued at this point, and the coach has fastened two pieces of plastic and a belt onto Harry’s waist (for getting people out). Just as he finishes up and sends him out onto the field, Louis nearly crashes into his chest.

  “Who are you?” He asks, and Harry sputters. He blinks, furrows his brows and actually looks so pained that it’s like Louis just hit him across the face. It washes instant guilt down Louis’s spine. Maybe he’s the one being insensitive, now. 

  “Harry,” the boy chokes out, voice deep. The word is forced, like it took actual energy to speak. 

  “I’m Louis,” They’re standing in the middle of an intense game of capture the flag, people running and weaving between them, but their feet are planted in place, unmoving, facing one another in the middle of the competitive chaos. 

  “I know,” Harry murmurs with a slight wince, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his own neck. He looks just as unsure as Louis feels. 

  Now that they’re closer, he can examine his features. His hair sort of topples effortlessly down to just below his ears, and he’s got a strong jaw. Everything about his face is pulled together, and tight, as if he’s scrunching everything close so that he won’t fall apart. 

  “How do you know me?” He asks, a bit softer this time. 

  “Didn’t, really. Just saw you around sometimes,” the boy replies, with a shrug. It’s the least subtle at being dishonest that Louis thinks he’s ever seen. 

  Louis may have lost his memory, but he’s not stupid. He hasn’t lost his ability to put context clues together. He decides to let it slide. 

  “Alright, well, nice to meet you. Harry.”

  “Yeah. Right,” Harry’s lashes flutter for a moment in response. He exhales slowly, and they go their separate ways. 

  Louis still feels eyes on his back as he walks away. 

 

~

 

  “Who is Harry Styles.” Louis demands, one strap of his backpack over his shoulder as he meets Niall outside of the cafeteria. The boy is still working on a sandwich, and nearly chokes on it when Louis nearly jumps him in the hallway.

  “…Why?” 

  “He showed up in gym class and everyone looked like they were waiting for me to react. And he was staring at me like he was going to throw up. So I asked him-“

  “You talked to him?” Niall’s eyes are out of his head, almost. 

  “Yes? And he told me that he didn’t know me well. But it was just… weird.” Louis shakes his head quickly, eyes distant. “The whole thing was _weird_ , you know?”  Niall scratches his forehead and throws the leftover sandwich away in the nearest garbage can as they keep walking.

  “Yeah. Uh, hm.” Niall pulls his brows together and looks down at his shoes carefully, before looking back up again and smoothing his features. “I’m not sure how much of this is mine to tell, to be honest. It’s your friendship with Harry, not mine. And I don’t know how much of it he wants you to know.” 

    Louis stops walking.

  “ _Wants me_ to know? If I knew him, and he was my ‘friend’, don’t I have a right to know about it?” He raises his voice slightly, and Niall turns to face him.

  “How should I know, Lou?!” He throws his hands up and lets them slap at his sides. A few heads have turned, or at least, a few more that weren’t already silently watching. “None of my friends have ever lost their memory before! Excuse me for not knowing the ethics of it all.” 

  Niall storms off, and Louis is left standing there, frustrated and angry with himself and angry with everyone and angry at his brain for being bruised.  

~

**Nialler the GOAT:** _Srry mate. I’m not at you, it’s just been weird today. I heard you were comin’ back this week and I thought I’d be ready for it. It’s just that talkin to you an you not knowing anything is a lot. I’m trying to be cool about it, but. S tough._

 

Louis picks his phone up off of his bed, where it had just been lit up in the dim glow of his room. He’s only got his bedside table lit, and had been doing some homework with his back against the headboard and his reading glasses on. He’s extremely behind in every single class, but the teachers are being very lenient with him. 

 

**Louis:** _It’s okay. I’m sorry for interrogating you. If it makes you feel better, even though I don’t remember our friendship, I’m already pretty grateful for it._

**Nialler the GOAT:** _don’t get sappy on me you fuck._

**Louis:** _I take it back. Super glad I forgot about you. And I WILL find out what happened at Jessica’s Halloween party. Just as soon as I figure out who Jessica is._

**Nialler the GOAT:** _LOL. Fuckin hell. x_

**Louis:** _See ya tomorrow._  

**Nialler the GOAT:** _night tommo._

**Louis:** _Not sure if I like tommo._

**Nialler the GOAT:** _WHAT? sorry mate, that one’s a classic. probably not going anywhere, i don’t think._

**Louis:** _damn. goodnight… nialler._

**Nialler the GOAT:** _missed that._

_~_  

  On his second day of school, Louis is standing with a tray in the school cafeteria, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He’s got an early lunch - second period. Might as well call it breakfast. 

  Niall is his only friend so far, and he doesn’t have lunch until seventh. So this is an issue. 

  His eyes scan the room, and multiple heads are turned to face him. Not all, because apparently one day is all it takes for the majority of a school to get over the news that one of their peers has come back to school from his coma-induced absence. 

  A finger taps his shoulder lightly, and Louis quickly spins on his heel. There’s a dark haired boy standing beside him, in a navy blue jumper and his hands now in his pockets. 

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says tentatively. “I, uh, wow, this is weird. I’m Zayn. Hi.” 

  “Hi,” Louis responds, slowly, still clutching his tray in both hands. Zayn blinks a few times, and relaxes a little bit. He nods his head towards the crowd of people.

  “Do you want to come sit with us at our lunch table?” He looks over and points out a table against the back window. It’s got two other people at it, a brunette Louis doesn’t recognize - and Harry Styles. Harry is scrolling through his phone, home made sandwich in another hand. 

  “You sit with Harry?” Louis turns back to Zayn, who swallows thickly and stiffens. 

  “Yeah, we were - are - all friends. And you sat with us every day. But if you want to sit somewhere else, I, uh, I understand, you know? Just thought I’d ask. Cause we miss you ‘an all.” He looks genuinely sad, and Louis would have to be heartless to not understand how terrible it must feel for one of your friends to not know you at all. For you to have to invite them to come sit with you, with the possibility that they’ll choose new people to sit with instead. 

  “Why not?” Louis shrugs. Zayn looks visibly relieved, and they begin to make their way towards the table. “Harry misses me too?" Zayn chuckles under his breath, chest rising as he looks ahead.

  “Forget everything about yourself and still fuckin’ askin’ me about Harry. I swear.” 

  Louis frowns at that, but continues following him anyway. 

  They sit down at the table, with the other two boys, and Harry stops chewing to look up. His entire body seizes into stillness like a statue, and Louis is getting tired of this. Of people seeing him and recoiling into confused and restless states of uncertainty. 

  “Hi. We met yesterday,” he says to the boy, before turning to the stranger. “I’m Louis.”

  “I’m Liam,” the brunette responds, looking absolutely dumbfounded. “Wow. I mean, I knew he didn’t remember us, but this is…”

  “Weird?” Louis offers, with a raise of a brow. “People use that word around me a lot, recently.” Liam smiles.

  “Yeah, weird. I missed you though, Lou.” And Louis doesn’t know what to say to that, because he’d like to be able to tell this person that he missed them, but. He’s just met them.

  “So. Do you guys know Niall?”

  They laugh. Even Harry’s lips curl into an amused smile.

  “Yeah,” Zayn murmurs. “We know Niall.”

  “Well geez, I’m just trying to figure all this out,” Louis huffs, mildly annoyed that they’d laugh at him, and begins digging into his lunch.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Liam settles down. “Niall’s one of our best friends. All of us have been friends for years. Including you.”

  And, well. If that isn’t strange to hear.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Zayn shrugs, poking out his bottom lip a bit, as if to reassure him. 

  “It’s not your fault you were in a crash.”

  Harry winces. 

  Louis turns his attention to Harry, this elusive boy who can’t seem to look at him for more than ten seconds without darting his attention onto something else.

  “Harry.”

  The boy looks up. Zayn and Liam stop moving, and Louis is noticing a bit of a pattern in this. He and Harry interact, and the entire world stops spinning. Everyone around them slows to a stop, as if to watch the aftermath of a crash on the side of the road. Entranced.

  “Yes?” That deep voice again, the one from yesterday. Louis’s stomach is stirring. 

  “Did we hate each other or something?” He blinks. And, okay, it’s a blunt question, but he knows something is _up_ and he’s damn tired of it. 

  “What?” Harry’s eyes widen. “No,” he shakes his head and sits up a bit straighter. “No, uh. I’m sorry Louis. I’m just not as good at adjusting to this as everyone else seems to be.”

  It sounds like the first genuine thing Harry has said to him.

  “Oh. Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think I’m doing too hot, either. Managed to piss Niall off on my first day back.” He shrugs, and moves some mashed potatoes around with his fork. They look awful.

  Harry’s lips raise into a half smile and he snorts. 

  “So it seems we’re all back to normal, then,” Zayn says, and now all four of them are laughing, just a little bit. 

  Louis knows there is a lot of hurt at this table of people. There are a lot of fake smiles sitting on uncomfortable faces that are just trying to make him feel better, or even make themselves feel better. Like maybe if they can laugh through it, their old Louis will come back to them.

  He just hopes he can bring back the friend they used to know. He just doesn’t have any idea how. 

  As if he’s reading his mind, Liam leans forward to get his attention. 

“We’re always here for you, Louis.” The tone of the conversation clearly becoming more serious. The others are just silently nodding. “I know- I know this is all new for you, but you’re not new for us. We, you know. We love you. And even if you never remember anything from the past ever again, we still want to be your friends. Because you’re still _you_.” 

  There’s a lull as Louis tries to think of what to say to that.

  “You had a whole month to write that speech out, then?” he asks. There’s a beat, and Liam’s laughing, just a little. 

  “I’m trying to be genuine, Tommo.” 

  “Don’t know why you didn’t think he wasn’t gonna take the piss out of you. Still fuckin’ Louis, isn’t it?” Zayn is laughing. Louis laughs too, and his heart feels warm. 

  Harry’s arms are folded over the table, and he smirks here and there when the banter gets funny enough, but stays fairly quiet. Distant. It’s disheartening. 

~

 

  After another English class with Niall, he’s back in P.E, in that stupid uniform. It smells better now, though, after washing it twice last night. So now, it’s clean and fresh, but still annoyingly bright blue and way too big. 

  Harry’s on time to class today, and it’s raining outside and fucking _cold_ because it’s November, so the coach is having them stay inside and walk laps around the gym. Kind of stupid and pointless, and a bit lazy for a teacher, but Louis is definitely not going to be one to complain about getting off the hook for what would have been an unbearable game of kickball.

  As he walks his laps, a few people come up to him and welcome him back to school. He thanks them, quietly, but his eyes are scanning for Harry. Louis is still so curious about him, about what makes him so different that people watch the two of them like hawks. That people get uncomfortable and fidgety when he so much as mentions Harry’s name.

  The questions are swirling through his head enough to make anyone dizzy, so he jogs a few steps and catches up to him. 

  “Hey Haz,” Louis chirps, falling into step beside him. Harry stops, though, and turns. 

  “What?”

  “Sorry,” Louis blurts out, immediately. “Just came to me. Thought I’d try it out. Kind of a stupid nickname, I know.”

  “No, it’s not-“ Harry breathes, and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s calmer. “Just used to call me that when we were kids, s’all.” 

  “I did?” Louis’s eyes widen, and his lips pull into the smallest smile. 

  “Yeah. Guess it’s still swimming somewhere in there.” He taps a finger ever so lightly against the side of Louis’s head, and laughs nervously. They keep walking, side by side.

  “So we were friends as kids, then?” Louis looks up at him. 

  “Best friends, actually” Harry says, and it sounds like it hurt to say. 

  “Really?” It’s almost a whisper. Then why did Harry lie? Why did he say that they barely knew each other yesterday? Louis isn't sure if this is the right time to ask. The last thing he wants is for Harry to become more reserved when he's just finally starting to answer some of the questions Louis has. 

  And then it’s like the floodgates have opened and everything Harry has looked like he was chewing on since they met comes out of him at once. 

  “You’ve been my best friend since we were six years old. Spent every weekend having a sleepover, usually yours cause you had a Gamecube.” Harry laughs a little, and Louis nods, desperate for him to continue. “It also helped that we happened to have the same elementary school teachers half the time. You were a brat, but I grew up with you. Couldn’t escape, it so I learned to love you.”

  “Hey!” Louis pouts. “This isn’t fair. I don’t know what you were like. Can’t say anything insulting back.”

  Harry quiets again, and Louis feels terrible. He doesn’t know how to pretend that he remembers everything about their friendship, but suddenly wishes he could. But Harry brings his mouth back to a smile again, slowly. 

  “I was too good to you. Gave you all my snacks at lunch time, waited on line with you just so you could have two turns on the tire swing instead of one.”

  “Wow. You were pretty whipped for a child,” Louis scoffs, and Harry slaps his shoulder.

  “Enough out of you,” he snaps. “Thanks to me you had more animal crackers and more tire swing rides than any kid ever deserved to have.”

  “Well, thanks for spoiling me, then,” Louis giggles, looping his arm through Harry’s. “I’m sure we’ll be back to our old antics in no time, Harry ol’ boy.”

  Harry takes a deep breath, and doesn’t respond. “If you’re my best friend, why didn’t you visit me at all last month?” 

  This seems to hit a nerve, and Harry’s lips form a straight line. He breathes in harshly, again, and removes his arm from Louis’s. 

  “I wanted to.” 

  “…And?”

  “And your family wanted some time to let you adjust. They didn’t want to introduce you to too many people at once. And honestly, a small part of me was too scared to fight them. I was a little bit relieved, when they told me to wait until you came back to school, actually.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Because what do you say to your favorite person in the entire world when they’re staring at you, blank as an empty board, as if you’re just anyone?” 

  Oh. 

  Louis feels so awful. This isn’t his fault. None of this is his _fault,_ But so many people are hurting because of him, and it’s making him ache more and more each day.

  “So I guess you’re gonna have to fill me in on everything, then?” He asks, brows raised playfully. “You know, on ten years of friendship.” 

  Harry’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Suddenly, he remembers when Niall said that he wasn’t sure what Harry wants him to remember. 

  “I’ll come over this weekend, if you want,” Harry offers. He still sounds so careful. 

  “Yeah, do you need my address?” 

  Harry just shakes his head, a gentle smile on his pursed lips, a chuckle looking like it’s threatening to bubble out of his mouth. “Oh. Right. Best friends. Got it. Have to remember that.” That makes Harry actually laugh.

~ 

  Louis decides that digging through his phone tonight is a good way to spend his time. His parents only gave it to him the morning of his first day of school, so he could contact them if he needed it. Before that, they thought it would only add more confusion to his life. Especially if people were trying to contact him.

  But now, he can sit back and maybe finally get some answers to the questions he has about everyone, and everything. 

  His messages don’t offer much. Apparently he’s one to delete them, because he’s only got a few conversations, and most of them don’t go back very far. 

 

**Zaynie:** _get the fuck outside. if i’m late for first AGAIN because of you i’m going to actually kill you._

**Louis:** _Relax, Zaynie. I’m almost ready._

**Zaynie:** _is that still my name in your phone?_

**Louis:** _no._

**Zaynie:** _i’m gonna ignore that lie in the hopes that you’ll put your damn shoes on and come outside._

**Louis:** _i’m going to be another ten minutes._

**Zaynie:** _i have a hot chocolate for you._

**Louis:** _be right out._

 

 

**Mom:** _Where are you?_

**Mom:** _Louis it’s late. you know you should have been home by ten._

**Mom:** _I’m calling harry. hopefully his mother raised him to answer phone calls, unlike yours, apparently_

 

**Liam:** _can i have your bio notes from last year_

**Louis:** _as if i didn’t throw them out. sorry mate_

 

**Liam:** _shit, lou, harry just told me you’re in hospital . are you ok? do you even have your phone? i’m in class i can’t even call anyone._

 

 

**H:** _open your door, i’m downstairs with a movie_

**Louis:** _Snacks?_

**H:** _no_

**Louis:** _Have a good night harry_

**H:** _louis goddamn tomlinson i walked all the way over here in the cold and i swear to god if you don’t answer the door i’ll never help you skip gym again_

**Louis:** _Okay fine._

 

**Louis:** _CALL ME I HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT NIALL DID AT JESSICA’S HALLOWEEN PARTY OH MY GOD_

 

**Louis:** _Can you bring that sweatshirt i really like to school tomorrow_

**H:** _my favorite one?_

**Louis:** _Yeah i wanna wear it_

**H:** _but i was gonna wear it._

**Louis:** _:( Guess i’ll go cold_

**H:** _you own sweatshirts louis_

**Louis:** _So… cold… can’t hear you.._

**H:** _FINE._

**Louis:** _Love you so much bb_

**H:** _one of these days i’m gonna block you_

 

**H:** _can we talk._

**Louis:** _No._

**H:** _lou. we had a fight. we should talk about it_

**Louis:** _I’m perfectly fine angrily eating ice cream on my couch._

**H:** _stop watching 13 Going on 30 and call me_

**Louis:** _I’m not watching 13 Going on 30_

**H:** _babe, i live next door. i can see it in the window_

**Louis:** _I’m closing the curtains._

**H:** _i can see you. hi_

**Louis:** _hi. i see you too_

**H:** _this is stupid. we’re staring at each other through our living room windows and texting. can’t i just come over? i’ll bring snacks._

**Louis:** _goldfish._

**Harry:** _be there in five. love you_

**Louis:** _love you too._

  That’s the last text Louis has from Harry. Reading them hasn’t helped to remember anything, like he’d hoped, but it definitely was engaging, and interesting, and depressing to read. It’s like being caught up on everything he lost, and may never have again.

  Also… 

  Harry lives next door? 

 

  He opens an app called “Instagram” next. It looks like a place where people just post pictures, like an online scrapbook. It takes a few minutes of random tapping and fiddling, but Louis finds his page. He’s got a little over 500 followers, which is, well. He doesn’t know what the standard is, but he’s pretty impressed with himself. 

  There aren’t many pictures. There’s one of Zayn, in sunglasses, sucking on a popsicle on what looks like a beach boardwalk. The caption was “You’re welcome, ladies.” There’s a comment from @zaynmalik that says “fuck off,” and another from @niallhoran that just says “I’M WET.” Louis laughs to himself. 

  The next picture is of a sunrise, with no caption. It looks like it was taken from his backyard. There are a few pictures of his shoes, and some of the friends he’s met so far. There’s a blurry selfie with all five boys in it - Harry, Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam, all smiling into the camera with bright eyes and red faces. There’s no caption. 

  Another picture, but just Louis and Harry. It looks like someone took it of them, standing together in the middle of a crowd. Harry’s arm is around Louis’s waist, Louis’s around Harry’s shoulders. The caption reads: “ED!!!” Louis doesn’t know what that means. But there’s a comment, from @harrystyles, that says “:)” so Louis clicks on Harry’s username.

  Harry’s page has way more pictures, but he begins scrolling. Mostly photographs of coffee cups, and notebook pages (one comment from Niall said “homework?? really? how do you make THIS look artsy). Some gorgeous landscapes, and a _lot_ of pictures of Louis.

  Louis sitting across from Harry at a cafe, smiling and rolling his eyes at the camera, with a travel mug sitting in both hands. Louis in the middle of the woods, squatting on the ground and pointing at the camera with a serious look across his face. Caption, “Told this clown to take a hike.” Apparently, Louis had commented, “Was this supposed to be funny?”

 

  Louis closes his phone and stares up at the ceiling. There’s so much to his life that he still doesn’t know. Doesn’t understand. But going back to school for just two days has already handed him so many puzzle pieces. 

  Now he just has to start putting them together. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the attention and support this story has received so far!! this chapter is significantly shorter but the next one will make up for it, so bear with me please! i've just started school again and a lot is going on. anyway, i've loved hearing your theories about the dynamic between louis and harry... but let's move on to more pressing matters... what happened to niall at jessica's party??? thoughts??? lmao.

Harry comes over to Louis’s house on Saturday afternoon with his favorite snacks - goldfish and sour cream and onion chips. It could have been a lucky guess, considering they’re in almost everyone’s top five, but Louis has a feeling there’s more too it than that.

They sit on the couch, turn on reality television, and munch in silence for a few minutes. 

“I’m gonna get a bowl for these,” Harry points to the chips, talking around the bunch of them already in his mouth. He stands, stretches, and casually makes his way towards the kitchen from the living room. Louis watches him go, watches how comfortable Harry is. 

How he knows exactly what cupboard contains the bowls, reaching up to it with ease and dumping the chips into it, snatching a few up and into his mouth during the process. Louis is effectively stilled by the behavior. 

“Spent a lot of time here?” he chokes out, as Harry swivels his body back towards the living room to return to him. The green-eyed boy raises one brow in response, before digesting the question and shrugging as he chews.

“Yeah, like I said. You had the best video games.”

“Right,” Louis nods, and they go back to their silence for a few more minutes after plops himself down into the cushions and settles into his seat. Eventually, though, Louis clears this throat. “I found some of my text messages,” he says.

“Oh?” Harry hums, eyes still glued to the TV. 

“Yeah. I read about me wanting your sweatshirt, and you not bringing snacks to my house, and… um,” he taps his chin, failing to remember anything else. “Some more, but that’s about it. Did I ever get the sweatshirt?”

“Yes,” Harry chuckles, his chest rising as he snorts.

“Oh. Where is it? I can give it back to you.”

“You’re wearing it.” Harry blinks at him, and Louis looks down. Well, it makes sense why the hoodie is too big on him now.

“In that case, expect it returned to you tomorrow.”

“I won’t hold my breath.” 

Louis doesn’t argue with him. It’s pretty comfortable, so he can understand why he wanted it for himself to begin with. 

“You know, we were supposed to talk about things and catch me up on my former life… Not watch an entire season of Amerca’s Next Top Model.”

“ _Former life?_ You make it sound like you died.” Louis almost says _‘may as well have’,_ but bites his tongue. 

“Okay, sorry. This same life that I have forgotten. Now please, tell me things.” He pokes at Harry’s thigh, turning sideways to face him on the couch. Harry groans, mutters something about ‘ _just as it was getting good_ ’, and flicks the television off before mirroring Louis and facing him. They’re both sitting cross-legged on the sofa, hands in their laps.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Tell me a good memory we have.” Louis shrugs, letting his shoulders fall, as Harry leans back a bit, eyes distant. As if he’s racking his brain.

“We saw Ed Sheeran last summer,” Harry comes back to reality. “My sister was going to go with her boyfriend but he couldn’t go last minute, and she didn’t want to go alone so she just gave me the tickets.” Louis doesn’t know who Ed Sheeran is, but he’s intrigued. 

“And you brought me?”

“Course.” 

Harry says _course_ with almost an insulted tone, almost like _Who else would I take?_ and it makes Louis’s stomach feel light and bubbly. He ignores it. 

“Did we have a good time?” 

“The best. It was outdoors, and we had general admission tickets. You practically dragged me out of there at the end, I was so tired.” 

Louis laughs at the idea of his exhausted self struggling to lug a deadweight and half-asleep Harry out of a crowded arena. “But we took the train home, and we both fell asleep and missed our stop. Woke up and jumped off, at a station in the middle of nowhere.” Harry is smiling at the memory. 

 

_“Oh, this is just_ great _, Harry. We’re gonna fucking die out here!” Louis groans, his entire body collapsing against the brick wall of the train station. It’s two-thirty in the morning, and things don’t look promising. The station is in the middle of a field, with a parking lot in front of it. There’s an ATM, a closed ticket booth, a ticket machine, and the number of a taxi service taped onto the wall. And. That’s it._

_“Relax.” Harry’s eyes are frantically scanning his options for the cheapest and safest escape. “I can call my mum and she can pick us up.”_

_“It’ll take her at least an hour to get here.”_

_“Do you see a better option?”_

_Louis clamps his mouth shut, leans against the wall, and slides down to the floor. That seems like his silent resignation and simultaneous granting of permission to go through with that idea. So Harry pulls out his phone._

_Ten minutes later, they’re sitting on the cement of the platform, backs against the cold brick, and staring up at the sky._

_“I can’t wait to be in my own bed,” Louis closes his eyes to fantasize. Harry only hums, leaning his head against Louis’s. They stop speaking, out of sheer exhaust._

_They’re both wearing worn out converse, dirty and faded. Harry’s are blue, Louis’s are black. Louis stares at the four feet, and muses over the concept that their fashion tastes are so different, and yet they somehow both wear these same shoes more than anything else._

_Harry dresses conservatively. T-shirts, plain hoodies, and jeans that are just a little bit too tight on him. Maybe the occasional flannel. Louis can’t say he’s all that daring either - especially since half of his wardrobe comes directly from Harry’s closet. He buries his face into the collar of his sweatshirt and breathes in._

_It smells like a mixture of Harry’s detergent and Louis’s cologne._

_After what feels like days, headlights appear in the parking lot and they jump to their feet. The stumble to Harry’s mother’s car is a tragic and pathetic one, but they make it there and clamber into the backseat._

_She doesn’t even bother reprimanding the boys for their irresponsible behavior. Only sighs to her self as her hands sit on the wheel, turning the radio volume down as she hears them instantly begin to snore._

_Anne looks briefly into the rearview mirror, at how her son’s nose is sitting in Louis’s hair, before returning her gaze to an empty highway._

 

_~_

 

Niall, Zayn, and Louis are currently sitting at a table in the middle of the school library, silently working on homework together during third period. Every once in a while they take a study break to talk to one another, but for the most part, they’re pretty focused considering midterms are coming up (and Louis has been trying to cram an entire semester’s worth of work into two weeks).

Most of Louis’s classes have come back to him with a relative amount of ease. The material is new to him, but at the same time, it isn’t. He learns it quickly and he has a feeling that it has something to do with the fact that the information is still in his brain, somewhere. But it’s just a theory. Maybe he’s a quick learner and always was. 

Niall is tapping the back of his pencil against a biology textbook as he reads, and Zayn grits his teeth.

“Please,” he groans out, suddenly, and it’s louder than he probably intended.

“Sorry,” Niall huffs. “Nervous about this. I really have to do well on this midterm.”

Louis is so tired of studying. He wants to do something fun, even if it’s just for five minutes. This tension, this stress, it makes his brain feel like it’s rotting. 

So he drops his pen suddenly, the noise causing his friends to look up at him curiously. 

“Let’s toilet paper Liam’s car,” he says into the silence. Niall and Zayn look at each other, and then back at Louis.

There’s a beat, and then almost instantaneously, they’re all rising up to shove their notebooks into their backpacks. As the three of them scurry out of the library and into an open, empty hallway, Zayn claps Niall on the back.

“Knew he’d come back,” he says with a quiet excitement, and Louis has his back to them as he speed-walks towards the boys’ bathroom, but there’s a smile plastered across his face. 

 

~

 

Harry’s been staring at his ceiling for fifteen minutes, at least. 

His arms are behind his head, resting on a navy blue pillow, limbs sprawled out across his unmade bed and his eyes focused. His laptop is open on his desk, somewhere to the left, and softly playing some of his music into the space. 

He should be doing homework. He should be _done_ with his homework, considering the fact that it’s one in the morning and there’s a trigonometry test tomorrow that he’s nowhere near prepared for. 

It’s way too difficult to focus, though, when there’s so much on his mind that it feels like there are two hands around his brain, squeezing it into mush inside his skull. He’s running the flashbacks through his head like the trailer to a movie. A movie about him and Louis. Louis, who should hate him. Louis, who has forgotten everything. _Everything._

 

_Harry sees two small legs standing underneath an open locker and smiles to himself. He can’t see the boy’s face, hidden behind the open door, but he can see the shoes shuffling back and forth in place. Louis has always been uncomfortable with stillness._

_He makes his way over to his friend and leans his hand against the wall, right behind the locker. When Louis slams it shut, he jumps and shrieks at the sudden appearance of a very amused Harry._

_“Why?” Louis whines. Harry falls back so that his shoulder is against the wall, and crosses his arms over his chest._

_“Because you look cute when you’re startled.” Louis squawks at the response, and shuts his mouth. He also looks cute when he’s unsure of what to say, Harry thinks, and decides he should fluster him more often. “Let’s go to lunch.”_

_Louis blinks a few times, and opens his mouth slowly._

_“You -… Oh, the cafeteria, right.” He shakes his head, makes a few facial expressions that Harry doesn’t understand, before just closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Ignore me. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Let’s go.”_

_They walk with their hands holding onto their backpack straps, relaying any exciting or interesting parts of their days thus far to one another._

_When they make it to the lunch line, trays in hand, they slide down with everyone else and grab food as they go. Harry takes a huge bite of an apple and smiles at Louis, with his mouth full. Louis pretends to be disgusted._

_He can’t really be grossed out, though. They’ve seen each other in too many disgusting situations to not be desensitized to one another at this point. Harry watched Louis suffer through food poisoning when they were fifteen. Well,_ listened _to the horrors from the other side of a bathroom door._

_Harry got too drunk at a party a few months ago, and Louis ended up having to make the executive decision for the both of them to drag Harry into the bathroom of whoever’s house they were at and sit the boy down against the toilet._

_“Better you get sick in here then out there,” he said soothingly as Harry groaned. “Saw you looked a little queasy out there, babe.”_

_“Can’t puke,” Harry had whimpered, voice deep and slurred, eyes closed. “Help me.”_

_Louis had just sighed, braced himself._

_“You’re so lucky to have me as a friend,” he grunted, before shoving his index finger to the back of Harry’s throat._

_“I know,” Harry had sighed after the alcohol had been ejected from his system, so softly that Louis almost didn't hear it, cheek resting against the porcelain bowl, eyes closed. “Love you so much.”_

 

_~_

 

It’s Friday, and that means they’re playing dodgeball in gym class today. It almost means that at the beginning of almost every round, Louis walks up to the middle of the basketball court, where the line is drawn between both teams, ten feet from a waiting Harry.

Harry weakly tosses a ball at Louis, hitting him square in the chest, and Louis promptly walks over to the sideline, where he sits for the next ten minutes until the round is over and it’s time to repeat the process. 

By the fifth time they’ve done this, the coach blows his whistle. 

“ _Styles,_ if you and Louis keep up this charade both of your participation grades are seriously going to suffer,” he threatens. Louis and Harry exchange glances, and purse their lips at one another. Somehow, a silent plan is decided upon. 

The next time the game is beginning, Harry picks up a ball at the start and looks for Louis. The smaller boy is running up and down his team’s side of the court, waving his arms and jeering at Harry. 

“You’ll never get me, Harry!” He shouts. “I am so invested in this game, it’s not even _funny._ Believe me, I’m in it for the long haul. So I’d like to see you _try-“_ Harry nails him with the ball before he can finish the sentence. Louis lets his arms drop, and shrugs at their teacher from where he’s standing, off to the side. “Sorry Coach,” he shouts over the noise of the game. “Guess I’m just not very good.” 

When he looks back to Harry, the boy’s snorts and giggles are hardly concealable, and Louis decides that he likes Harry a lot, and he especially likes how very easy it is for him to make Harry laugh. It’s a very satisfying feeling. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys... i am so sorry for the long wait. i've been so busy with school, and plus, i've been trying to work out the plot of this story for a long time. i really do mean it when i say that your feedback motivates me to write more, so please let me know what you think! the length is a little short... again... but i finally think we're gonna get rolling with this story :) thank you so much for reading.

Niall shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth and sighs. His brows furrow and his nose wrinkles up as he mashes the buttons of his controller. It’s squeezed tightly between his palms, old and worn and riddled with marks that give away its age. Scratches, dents, and discoloration dance along its surface.

“If Zayn wins again I’m determining him the all-time champion,” Liam says lazily, with his eyes on his phone instead of the screen. Zayn’s lips turn up just slightly at the comment, a ghost of a smile that breaks his intense concentration.

But it isn’t enough to distract him. He keeps pressing furiously, so quickly that Louis can barely keep up with the movement of his thumbs. And suddenly, the boys are shrieking. All of them, even Harry, who Louis has determined is the quietest of the group.

“Twelve years I’ve been kicking your ass at this game,” Zayn cheers, as Niall throws his controller onto the floor and flops back into the cushions of the couch.

They’re in Liam’s basement, an apparent favorite place to hang out. It’s still so odd, Louis has realized, that he is putting the clues together of how his own friend-group operates each time they get together. He reads them like a book, and looks for where he fits into the big picture. It’s still unclear.

Harry’s leant against Louis’s shoulder, tapping away at his phone and sighing here and there. He dips in and out of the conversation, but usually keeps his comments quiet and reserved for Louis alone to hear. No one seems surprised by it. 

Louis isn’t even surprised by it. In a weird way, it feels comfortable. Familiar. And he decides that it must be normal for them, the closeness. Almost as if he knew Louis was lost in thought, Harry snaps him out of it by scooting closer and nuzzling into the boy’s neck with his nose. He inhales happily, before his entire body freezes up and he’s stuck in place.

“Sorry,” he breathes, awkward and uncomfortable, before retreating back into their former shoulder-to-shoulder position.

Louis opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He finally decides to speak.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, as Harry turns back to look at him with a pained and bashful redness across his face. “I want us to be normal again, whatever that means.” 

This doesn’t seem to help. Louis doesn’t understand why nothing he says seems to soothe his friend. It’s almost like every time he speaks, he makes things worse. Sometimes he thinks he should never open his mouth at all.

“Alright,” is all Harry chokes out, but he stays where he is. 

~

It’s Friday afternoon, Louis is changing in the locker room, and he’s got new feelings that are proving to be… well, problematic. Harry is changing a few feet away from him, pulling the elastic shorts up his legs, before yanking a t-shirt with the school’s logo on it out of his own locker. Louis feels a little bit gross for staring so intently at Harry’s back, but he almost can’t help it.

Harry is… something else. His hair is curly and stops just by his ears. He’s muscly, but not obnoxiously so. His smiles are never quite symmetrical. His mouth curls into half grins before balancing itself out, and that’s only when he’s truly amused.

Someone’s going to notice that Louis is practically drooling over his supposed best friend, so he forces himself to peel his eyes away. 

His head feels light and his stomach feels heavy, and he’s angry at himself for finding Harry so goddamn attractive. As if things aren’t complicated enough.

Louis decides to turn his attention onto lacing up his sneakers. His brows furrow and he furiously ties the strings into a bow. His lips purse, and maybe there’s so much on his mind at one moment, but he doesn’t realize Harry snorting at him.

“Focusing pretty hard there, Tomlinson.”

Louis looks up to a now fully clothed Harry, smirking at him and shoving his shoulder with a playful scoff. He looks angelic.

“Piss off, Styles,” Louis snaps back, but despite the faux irritation, he can’t mask his grin as they close their lockers simultaneously and begin walking towards the gym.

“Comin’ over to mine for a movie tonight?” Harry asks, throwing an arm around Louis’s shoulder. Louis reaches up to ruffle Harry’s hair with his left hand, before he rests it on top of Harry’s shoulder. Their feet move in unison.

“‘Course, Haz.”

This is going to be a problem.

~

“Just throw your bag on the floor,” Harry says over his shoulder as he steps into his room and toes his shoes off near the bed. Louis looks around, before setting his backpack against thewall. It looks like any teenager’s room - a bed against the back wall, two nightstands on either side, hastily made sheets and fluffed pillows. There’s a dresser with a television on top of it, and a few DVDs lying about. Louis sees a couple of rom-coms, some action films, and some cheesy comedies. It seems that Harry’s taste in movies could be improved.

How does he even know that? He’s only seen a few films since he woke up.

Maybe pieces of his memory are seeping back to him. If only they were more relevant.

There’s a desk underneath the window, with a lamp sitting on it and some stray textbooks. Louis notices pictures hanging all over the room. 

Some of Harry and his family on vacation somewhere tropical. In those pictures the curly haired boy is younger looking, less filled out, with a rounder face and a wide smile. More recent pictures sit in frames on the desk and nightstands. One was taken with a flash somewhere and has Louis in it, his cheek squished against Harry’s. Louis’s eyes are closed, his face scrunched into a smile. Harry’s eyes are open and he’s grinning. 

In someone’s handwriting, they’d scribbled into the corner, “ _June 19th, 2016.”_

There’s another of Harry, Zayn, and Liam, all dressed as pirates and giving the camera a thumbs up. They look not a day older than fourteen.

Louis stops at a picture of two little kids, standing by a sprinkler in the grass. It’s spraying them and they’re jumping through it, arms in the air and legs lifted off the ground. Louis sees curly hair, and… Something similar to his own.

“Who is this?” He asks, though he’s got a feeling he knows. Harry turns around from where he’d previously been changing into sweatpants and walks over to the picture. 

“Oh, that’s us,” he grins. “I think we’re seven, there? Yeah, seven. Neither of us had a pool, so sprinklers and Slip N’ Slides was all we had.”

“Looks like we had fun,” Louis muses.

“Yeah, we did.”

~

The homecoming game is thrilling. Louis doesn’t know the rules of football, but his friends tell him that it has nothing to do with the memory loss - he never cared much for it. That being said, he’s having a pretty great time sitting in the stands with his friends, despite the cold weather and the terrible taste of the snack shack’s hot chocolate.

Zayn and Niall are chattering excitedly about the score. Liam is the team’s manager, whatever that means, but Louis can see him standing on the sidelines with a clipboard and talking to players. 

Louis has got his mitten cloaked hand wrapped around Harry’s waist and they’ve been trapped in conversation for the past hour. Every once in a while they’re ripped from the banter by the roar of the crowd jumping to their feet, and they turn to see what happened to incite such an excited reaction. 

“What did I do at games before?” Louis asks.

“Same thing you’re doing now,” Harry laughs. “Chewing my ear off about things completely unrelated.”

“Oi!” Louis slaps his shoulder. “Am I different now?”

Harry thinks about it before a moment.

“No, I think you’re pretty much the same. A little bit less forward, now, but that’s about it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I dunno, you just. You’re very hands-on with everyone you know. You used to kiss Niall sloppily on the cheek because you knew he hated it. And you always jumped on my back when you saw me in the hallway, vulnerable and with my back turned.” He grumbles the last part, and Louis snorts.

“I sound like an asshole.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Louis chuckles, turns to his right, and grabs Niall’s face. The blonde sputters before Louis plants a wet kiss onto his cheek.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Niall wipes at his red face with his glove. “You had to tell him, Harry?” Niall gripes over Harry’s laughter. 

“Just be glad I haven’t mentioned Jessica’s Halloween Party, alright?”

~

Harry’s car isn’t anything special. Black, with a leather interior. It isn’t new by any means, but it isn’t super old looking either. He clearly takes nice care of it, Louis observes, as he buckles himself into the passenger seat. Harry adjusts his mirrors, turns the key into the ignition, and leans back into the seat before turning to look to his right.

He gives Louis a once over before offering him a small smile.

“Nice to have you back in here,” he admits, as they pull out of Louis’s driveway. “I missed our morning drives to school.”

“Do I ever drive?” Louis asks. He doesn’t know if he would remember how to drive, and he can tell his mother is a little bit apprehensive about trying it out with him. He won’t push it, just yet. Harry shrugs, eyes now locked on the road.

“To school? Rarely. Usually you just buy me coffee and a bagel and we’re even. You’re not much of a morning driver.” 

“What about the rest of the day?” This is so fascinating to Louis. He’s starting to realize that Harry is one of the few people he’s met so far who gives Louis the little details. Most people just say “you’re a great friend” or “you’re really funny” or “you’re great at sports.” 

No one tells him about his quirks, his mannerisms, his favorite celebrities, television shows he detests. Harry has the answers and he’s been pretty generous with them, so far.

“You like to drive at night,” Harry gets a little bit more serious. He swallows thickly, before clearing this throat and seemingly snapping out of the haze. “Late night escapades usually included you being behind the wheel.” He turns to Louis and smirks.

Louis smiles back. And then he remembers something.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, a bit hesitantly. Harry cocks one brow into the air and nods, without taking his gaze away from the light they’ve just stopped under. Louis watches the drizzle of rain hit the boy’s windshield. He can see the school in the distance.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you lie to me?” Harry doesn’t seem to be following. He pulls his brows together and his lips form a straight line. Louis elaborates. “When we first met. When you said we barely knew each other.”

Harry opens his mouth, exhales, and closes it. His entire face scrunches up in discomfort, and Louis almost regrets asking the question.

“The truth hurts, sometimes,” Harry finally murmurs.

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know?” Louis gains a little bit of his confidence back when he realizes that he’s a bit upset. “I had to find out from Niall that we were friends.”

“That’s not it,” Harry’s got that pained look on his face again, similar to the one he was wearing on the soccer field on Louis’s first day back. “I-“ he sighs again. “For a while I was determined to let you live your life without me in it. I saw it as an opportunity as a fresh start for you. I guess it was kind of short-sighted. You were going to find out at some point.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend anymore?” Louis doesn’t know why he’s so hurt. He’s barely known this person two weeks. His heart is stinging though, bleeding even. Maybe the ghost of his former self heard the words.

“No, no,” Harry is getting frustrated. He breathes heavily through his nostrils as they turn into the school parking lot. “I-I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life. I still don’t.” 

“What sense does that make?” Louis winces at the shrill tone of his own voice. He can’t help it. He’s genuinely angry now. “You were willing to just let our friendship go, without letting me have any say in it? How’s that fair?”

“A lot of things aren’t fair, Louis,” Harry parks the car and turns it off. He stares straight ahead, cheeks red. “I’ve never been very fair to you. I’m not as good of a friend to you as you’d like to believe.” 

Louis’s head is spinning.

“So, what does that mean? We weren’t as close as you let on?”

“No, what I mean is,” Harry puts his hands in his lap. “We were best friends, always have been, but I wasn’t _good_ to you. When you lost your memory, I figured… I figured if you were given the chance to never have met me, you’d have taken it. So I decided to give you that. That being said, it didn’t last very long-“

“Why would I want that? From what everyone tells me we were inseparable,” Louis blinks. He unbuckles himself and turns to face his whole body towards Harry. A sinking feeling settles in his stomach. “Did you do something? Before I lost my memory.”

Harry’s eyes are watering. He nods, slowly, making eye contact this time. 

“What was it?” Louis is whispering now.

“I won’t tell you,” Harry whimpers. “I hurt you enough as it is. The- the only good thing about all of this is,” he pauses, and breathes. “-it can’t hurt you anymore if you don’t remember it.”

“It’s my _life_ ,” Louis grits his teeth. “I have a right-“

“I can’t tell you!” Harry shouts suddenly, and it startles Louis so much that he shrinks back into his seat. “I’m doing you a favor Louis, I promise.”

Louis grabs his backpack off of the floor and storms out of the vehicle. Before he slams the door shut, he looks back at an exhausted and nearly crying Harry.

“Don’t do me any favors.” 


End file.
